


I Don't Want To Set The World On Fire

by carnivorousBelvedere



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fallout, Apocalypse, Charisma Check, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Liberal use of LA geography, Lover's Embrace Perk, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 22:16:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14903117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carnivorousBelvedere/pseuds/carnivorousBelvedere
Summary: Wasteland DJ Dave Strider has a goal of amassing the largest post-apocalyptic music library, so he hired radioactive-proof companion Karkat Vantas to help him.He tells Karkat not to go searching without him after a near-fatal injury temporarily cripples him.Karkat doesn't listen.(Fallout AU)





	I Don't Want To Set The World On Fire

“You’re not going to Amoeba.”

Dave says it so determinedly that you’re taken aback. 

“Why? So you can keep my commission?” you shoot back at him, bewildered. 

His eyebrows pull down behind his shades. “Because I said so. It’s not safe.” He stands up and winces. “Listen I appreciate you wanting to make runs while my leg glues itself back together but we can go when shit’s all done, okay?” 

“Just yesterday you were whining about variety at the station. Just let me go and do this. I’ll hit up Atomic in the same trip.” And get paid double because that’s the agreement you have with those locations. Being immune to radiation does have its perks in post-apocalyptia. 

“Not while you’re on my payroll.” Dave is trying to say it like it’s final and you scoff. 

“You realize I used to do runs in cazador nests before you hired me, right?” 

Dave isn’t looking at you. “That was before I hired you, Karkat.” 

Okay, now you’re starting to get mad. What’s he trying to say here? “Excuse me? Do you think I’m not capable or something? Because from where I’m standing I’m not the one who let a deathclaw baby basically rip off their leg for some Ella Fitzgerald, which we already have plenty of by the way.” 

The DJ flinches. That was probably not the most tactful thing to say. It had been a really shitty run.

You still felt bad about not getting him away sooner. Why loan yourself out as a companion if you’re going to total up as being jack useless? Dave should have fired you immediately after. You could barely look at him during the whole first week of his recovery you were so guilty. 

“I’m going to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Dave hobbles out of the dusty room in his temporary metal leg cast, leaving you to stare after him. 

You sigh heavily and go upstairs to your living space that Dave set aside for you when he took you on. 

You sit down on your bed and slump back, restless. So instead of sitting around and not making caps like an asshole, you get back up and start packing for your trip. 

Since you’ll be gone a few days you leave Dave a note in his studio letting him know, and then you fuck off into the Angel’s Boneyard. 

\---

You never leave the station without a minimum of ten stimpaks, some Med-X, and a fat load of Cram, but only because it’s the one thing you can stomach when you’re out in the Wasteland. 

It’s a particularly hot day and you find yourself actually having to leave your trek down the deserted 101 to find some water. The heated wind blows sand continuously in your face without tall buildings to block it and you find your throat and nasal passages uncomfortable and dry after only an hour on the freeway. 

Echo Lake has a nice city around it. Pickpockets, if you aren’t careful, but mostly no one you need to worry about. Settler camps as far as the eye can see. You get hydrated and make your way back on to the 101. You stop and rest at the edge of Hollywood, your final location so close you can almost taste it. 

In the room you end up renting out you flip on the radio and fall asleep to Dave’s station. 

_[I don't want to set the world on fire ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n9D6GNzpmkM) _

_[I just want to start a flame in your heart ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n9D6GNzpmkM) _

_[In my heart I have but one desire ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n9D6GNzpmkM) _

_[And that one is you, no other will do ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n9D6GNzpmkM) _

_[I've lost all ambition for worldly acclaim ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n9D6GNzpmkM) _

_[I just want to be the one you love ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n9D6GNzpmkM) _

_[And with your admission that you'd feel the same ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n9D6GNzpmkM) _

_[I'll have reached the goal I'm dreaming of, believe me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n9D6GNzpmkM)_

\---

The next day starts off slow. It’s about two hours walk from the proper 101 exit to the record store you’re looking for. It you decide to travel all the way to Atomic it would take another day. 

Nobody likes this part of Sunset. 

You’re reminded why as buzzing begins to fill your ears. You find yourself sprinting over the decrepit stars inlaid on the ground as you see your destination in the distance. You can outrun them, but taking them straight on would be dumb for anyone.

You miss Dave. 

But you don’t miss the fact that he’s played “The End of the World” “Heartaches by the Number” “Johnny Guitar” and “It’s a Sin to Tell a Lie” on repeat and you wish you were there to slap him and tell him to something else before you actually start crying. 

And you absolutely know that he’s not playing “The Wanderer”, which is your favorite song, just to spite you. 

This isn’t important right now. What’s important is getting your ass into Amoeba before you wind up with welts all over your bloated corpse for Dave to find. 

It’s only another two blocks. You look down the expansive streets and see more of them coming for you. Cazadors and cazador nests, as far as the eye can see.  
You might make it now, but it won’t be as easy when you leave. 

You sprint like your life depends on it and crash through the doors on the first floor of Amoeba. 

The radiation is fine up here, but if you go downstairs there are pockets of it that would kill people on contact. But not you. Unfortunately, this also means that a Glowing One encounter is pretty likely in your future. You throw your rifle back over your shoulder and make sure your sickles are attached solidly at your sides before you head below. The stairs are blocked off, you have to jump down the elevator shaft. It’s fine, it’s nothing you haven’t done before… at least with Dave. 

You shove open the elevator doors and crack a flare, throwing it down the shaft. Then you wait, listening for any signs of life down there. When you’re sure you won’t land on a giant rat you test the rope you tied with Dave last time. So far it’s holding. The slide down is a little bit faster than you intended and meeting the ground cracks your ankles. Prepared for whatever is down here, you reach for your sickles and glance around the room. 

You can hear something in a distant corner, but you don’t want to stick around long enough to find out so you haul it to the section you’re looking for. This is the area Dave can’t get to, because the radiation would be too much for the amount of time. 

The shuffling noises are starting to get louder in the distance. Your rad meter is starting to blitz as you move closer to the right record case. 

You hope that glowing in the distance isn’t getting brighter too, otherwise you’re screwed. 

Here it is. Glenn Miller. You throw open the bag for the records and start shoving them in as you recognize the ones Dave is still missing, eyes shifting to the glowing on the other end of the room. 

There’s ghouls over there alright, you can hear them howling. 

When your bag is as full of records as it can stand you zip it up and start hauling it back to the rope. 

But nope, you cross through the open area in the middle and there it is. A Glowing One. 

The phosphorescent husk of a human hisses at you, with two others behind it noticing your presence. Then it charges. 

Ah, fuck. You sprint to the elevator shaft, the bag of records now significantly weighing you down and bouncing on your back. Here’s to hoping none of them break when you really have to run down Sunset Avenue. 

You make it to the rope and haul yourself up as fast as you can, your sweaty hands making the endeavor significantly more difficult.  
Finally you make it back to the first floor and glance back down. The ghouls and the radiating glowing one are hissing at you from the bottom. You sag in relief and push the doors open again. 

You take a second to sit next to the doors of Amoeba to catch your breath before taking on the hoard of cazadors outside. 

You’ll need your rifle this time. You take the intermission to load it and make sure its as full of bullets as could be and stuff your face with a jerky bar before you stand again. 

Waiting for the sounds of buzzing, you open the door of Amoeba hesitantly. You don’t hear anything immediately but that could change at any second. You’ve got several more pounds of weight on you and a lot of distance to cover to make back to the safety of the 101. 

 

By the time you make it back within an hour of the 101, you can victoriously say that you only have two welts but Med-X is probably the only thing keeping you chugging right now. You don’t pride yourself on chem use but duty calls. The poison in your arm is making you dangerously woozy and you’re worried you might actually collapse. If you can make it one more block, there’s a rest stop, maybe a room if your memory serves. You don’t care what kind of water the faucets have, just that they have somewhere to put your head that isn’t the decayed Walk of Fame. You don't have enough energy to even pull out your bed roll.  
Swaying on your feet, you continue on to the rest stop. There’s no way you’re going to make the trek to Atomic up north now. The older woman manning the desk lets you buy some chems to treat the wound and you buy a room for the night, giving up on the road for the rest of the day. 

In the room you heat up some Cram and kick back, waiting for the toxins to drain from your body. 

In the daze of your thoughts you wonder how this trip would have gone with Dave at your back. He probably wouldn’t have let you get stung. Only because he would have been watching your back, not throwing himself in the way of the sting. Not like last time. You were the one that should have lost their leg, not the most famous DJ this side of the NCR. What the fuck did he even hire you for? 

You’re awoken by the first dregs of sunlight. With a groan you pull yourself out of bed and run warm water down your face. The welt has mostly calmed down and it feels like the toxin has worn off, so you’re safe to continue on. If nothing gets in your way you might even make it back to Dave at a reasonable hour. 

You can’t wait to see the look on his face when he sees what you’ve brought him. He’s been eyeing this set of discs for awhile now and you’re seriously satisfied that it’ll be you who rings it in. 

It’s afternoon when you push open the doors to the studio. Dave is sitting as his desk reading and throws himself to his feet when he sees you. 

He looks terrible, with fussed hair and tired-looking eyes. Even worse, he is scowling at you. 

“Look at what I hauled in, asshole.” You close the distance, unzipping the pack as you go and sliding the records out onto his desk. 

He begins to sift through them but his expression doesn’t change. 

“I told you not to go,” Dave says flatly and holds one up, examining the titles. He’s so lively on his show, it’s weird to seem him lackluster like this. 

“If I don’t go on runs don’t get paid,” you respond. Dave’s frown deepens and he lowers the disc. 

“Is caps all you want?” He sounds bitter. Dust motes stir around him.

You pause, surprised by his tone. “I brought you the Glenn Millers we couldn’t get last time. Why are you upset?” 

“Because I asked you not to go!” 

“I don’t get paid to sit around! I can go work for other people if you won’t pay me. I’m sure other people would be willing to spit up premium for my skills.”

“No-- I-- Okay. Fine. You’re right. But if something happened to you…”

“I was totally fine!”

He points to your arm, where the welt is still apparent from the cazador sting, swollen and red. You reflexively go to cover it and shrug.

“I said I was fine. Look I’m here now and you don’t have to worry about hiring anyone else. I did the job.”

He looks hurt and goes to pull caps out for you, seventy-five as opposed to fifty for each recovered disc because of the location. He’s doesn’t seem happy at all about your success. 

“The cast is gone,” you observe aloud while his back is turned.

“Followers from the Medical College came while you were gone,” he responds stoically. 

“Oh,” you say and it floats awkwardly in the air. 

“So if you’d only waited a day I could have come with you,” Dave continues on and the bitter disappointment is unmistakable now. 

You ignore the stab of guilt. “Great, so when are we going out again?” 

“As soon as that bite is gone.” 

You huff but accept it. At least now you have some cash to burn and you’re kind of itching to act on that. “Want to go downtown later, for food? Doesn’t have to be bloatfly again.” 

He glances up at you and looks torn. “Uh… Yeah, for sure. I just have to cue up the rest of the day.”

“Cool, come get me when you’re done.” You head back to your dwelling, trying not to think about how hollow and guilty you feel. And also annoyed. Who does he think he is, telling you when to go like he’s your parent or something? That’s not the deal you have. So you signed on as his companion in the first place because you hated doing missions alone but that doesn’t mean you need to sit around and be useless.  
Why did you even go? It’s not like you really needed the caps. Maybe you were trying to prove something to him.  
You actually stop on your way back to your room, suddenly overcome with relief that he’s up and walking around again.  
You didn’t even ask him how he was doing. 

\--

You’re halfway to the valley, resting under an overpass when you facepalm while digging out some food. 

“Fuck. Dave, we need to go back.” 

He’s scrolling through his Pip-Boy and looks up at you. “Uh, what?” 

“I said we need to go back and rent out a room because I don’t want to sleep on the ground like a radstag.”

“Why are you sleeping on the ground?” 

“ _Because I forgot to pack a sleeping roll._ ” 

“Oh,” Dave says impassively. “Uh, we can share. If that’s okay with you. I mean, we totally don’t have to. We can keep going to the next stop.”

“There are no more stops until Atomic.” You’d have to backtrack to Hollywood. The valley is actually a desolate shithole. 

“Uh. Right.” You wish you could see his face better. You realize he’s not going to say anything even though his mouth is hanging open when he goes to bite his lip. For some reason it flusters you.

“You’re sure that’s okay?” you ask. “Sharing?” 

Dave coughs. “Yeah-- yeah absolutely.” 

You end up stopping for the night when you get over the hill to Noho because Dave is whining too much. You set a fire and eat around it, rifles laid out on the ground beside you. 

In the light of the flame you take a moment to observe him. He would have been even more famous had he been born before the Great War. When he’d asked you to join him, you couldn’t say no to that jawline, covered by an unvarying thin layer of scruff. 

The moon hangs vibrantly behind him and it's an image you wish you could capture. 

Getting into the bedroll is the most compromising situation you can ever remember putting yourself in, and you were just chased by a hoard of cazadors the other day.  
Somehow, you manage to settle in besides Dave without too much limb tangling. 

“Dave, calm down. Your breathing is too fast. There’s nothing out here.” Coyotes howl, far in the distance, but you’re safe in your temporary lodging. 

“Sorry,” he breathes. 

You fold your hands on your stomach and look up at the stars. It’s nice to not be alone out here. Eyes dry and heavy, you drift off in the comfort of Dave’s body heat. 

The morning sun wakes you again. You open your eyes slowly and take stock of yourself, like you always do on these hazardous camping trips.  
You’re alive. Your gun is still in front of your head. You feel energized. 

And Dave has his arm thrown over your waist with his head tucked between your shoulder blades.

Warmth rushes through you and you stop breathing. Maybe this why you feel so good this morning, the usual aches from a day’s walking not weighing on you. It’s been so long since someone has touched you. So long since you let someone touch you, because it’s hard to trust anyone in this world. 

But you trust Dave. You trust him with your life, and he trusts you with his. He’d already proven that. 

You suck in a breath and realize a part of you wants to scoot back so you’re fully pressed up against him. The thought causes another warm flush to coalesce through you. 

You’re touch-starved and needy. Dave is still sleeping when you slip out from under his arm, ignoring the impulse to stay next to him. 

Pleased with how light you feel, you stand and shake out your body. You set the fire again to boil some water for instant coffee and warm some canned meat. In the meantime, you wash your face off with a splash of purified water from your canteen. Dave doesn’t stay asleep much longer as the sun becomes harsher. 

He rolls over and offers you a sleepy smile. “Mornin’ sunshine.” It would be heart-stopping, if you were literally anyone else. Not for you though. Definitely not. 

“Are you talking to me or the actual god awful sun?” you mutter back at him. 

“Definitely the mutant hounds waiting for us over the hill,” he replies with a small laugh. He’s probably not wrong. 

He eats with you on the cold gravel, side by side overlooking the Wasteland. On the hill you can see the remnants Hollywood sign through the haze. You try not to stare at Dave while he follows you in preparing for the second leg of your journey. 

You reach Atomic by the afternoon with only a few close encounters with wild animals. No deathclaws this time. 

Atomic Records is not obvious like Amoeba, it actually took a bit of digging around and Dave obsessing over old maps to find it the first time. Inside the doors are some rad rats scuttling around that you promptly take out with your firearm. 

Dave grins excitedly at you. He’s breathtaking and you make yourself turn away to delve into the shelves. 

You make your way to a display that’s been cracked open on the left side of the room. “Dave, holy shit look!” you grab and wave a record around. 

“What is it?” he calls from the other side. 

“We finally got it! Bobby Darin’s Across the oof--” the flooring promptly goes out from under you and you fall for what feels like ages until landing on your pack onto a block of cement. Your back jerks and you fall forward into a pile of dust and woodchips. 

Shaking hands pull out a stimpak, which you promptly inject into your back. It takes two seconds for it to kick in and you gasp in relief as you pull yourself to your feet. 

Your geiger counter is beeping erratically. 

“Karkat!!” Dave screams from above.

“Shit- Dave, don’t come down here! The radiation is off the charts,” you yell back at him and stare into the dimness, waiting for your eyes to adjust and dust to settle. 

“I didn’t bring any rope!” Dave calls back at you. 

You breath in the caustic, untouched air and cough. “It’s okay! I’ll find a way out! Just wait for me up there, okay?” Oh, of course. There’s the telltale sounds of hissing making itself apparent. You can begin to make out what appears to be some storage room that slants downwards into certain darkness. The air is tinged with the scent of sitting water. 

“Karkat-- No! Wait!” Dave yells overhead. 

“Dave, I have to go! Wait for me!” you yell back and start down the slanted gritty floor. 

It looks like this room landslides into some kind of subway or service tunnel, and you’re extremely thankful it’s not a sewage pipe. If you’re not careful you could end up far, far away from Dave underground here. You hesitantly flip on the lantern attached to your wrist and it throws a functional diameter of light around you. 

The growling noises are coming from your right. Your gut reaction is telling you to go that way but you really really don’t want to. 

Five ghouls are waiting for you past a mountain of crumbled dirt and cement. Once they have your scent they storm towards you with clawed hands and monstrous faces locked in eternal anguish. The first one you send reeling with a kick. Your sickles come out and you slice forward into the ribs and neck of another. 

You stumble backwards off the tracks and reach for your gun instead. There’s too many of them for you to take with only the sickles. 

You turn to keep running down the tunnel while you prepare the shots. When you have some distance between them you turn back around and aim. Practiced hands land bullets through the head and shoulder of the first one and the head explodes in a gruesome display. The third you lock on to it’s torso and land two more shots, sending it rolling on its back. 

The other one has gotten back up and is really charging at you. You send a shot at its leg and miss. You turn around to sprint and reload down the tunnel, taking care to avoid your steps over the tracks. 

Aiming for the head again, you spin back around and hold your ground. It takes three shots on this one, two through the head and one through the neck, to take it out. The last one is still stumbling at you. You throw your gun back over your shoulder and take the sickles back out, landing them into its chest and yanking them back out as you kick the bloodied body back into the ground.  
It promptly gets back up, oh no, its one of _those ones_.  
It charges at you again and lands a deep scratch from your bicep through your forearm. You hiss in pain and hack back it, ignoring the flare of pain. 

You land a lucky strike right through its throat and send the head dangling. The body collapses. 

Finally, silence. You strain your ears for any more sounds down the tunnel, and are relieved when you don’t hear anything except dripping water. The injury can wait until you get back to Dave so you continue on into the darkness. You’re sweating and anxious to see him safe, scared you left him alone for so long. 

Down not much further, you stumble upon a service door and crank it open. There’s a centaur waiting, its corpulent body meandering over at you. You take it out with a couple of rounds into its head and it slumps into the ground. 

In the next room over, you finally find a ladder leading upwards to the surface. You throw open the hatch onto a crumbly streetside. 

Your breathing is raging through your chest now, swells that crash like waves on the old San Pedro docks. 

There’s a commotion in the distance, a couple streets over that you can hear. 

You pray it’s not Dave. Dave, who you left alone. Dave, who isn’t used to the Wasteland like you are. 

You practically fly out of the hole in the ground and take off sprinting while pulling the single unit of Psycho you keep on your person for emergencies. He’s going to be mad at you for taking it but you couldn’t live with yourself if you can’t help him. 

You plunge it into your leg and then continue on down the street, zigzagging your way back to Atomic in your mental map.

Oh. It’s something worse than a deathclaw. Worse than a feral yao guai.

A raiding party. From your sidled perch at the edge of the street you can see them pull open the door to Atomic. Your heart squeezes. 

Had you both been followed? Did you trigger something on your way through the valley? 

The Psycho drips through your veins and ignites roaring anger. 

If anyone lays a finger on Dave, you will make sure they aren’t even recognizable by the time you’re done with them. 

You dart across the street, any aches or pains in your body fading away. Your muscles twitch with readiness to be used. 

You throw open the doors and are met with immediate gunfire. 

“Dave!” you shout, causing the raiders to turn around and look at you, momentarily distracting them from the onslaught measured against your companion. 

Drugged-out assholes. One of them rushes you with a crowbar. 

The Psycho makes everything move in slow-motion. You pull out a sickle and send it flying, where it lands in the raider’s head and sends them slumping against a case of records in a bloodied fall. 

One of his companions screeches angrily, obviously hopped up on chems or alcohol or both. 

She shoots at you and the shot breaches through your right abdomen. You barely notice it as you raise your rifle and send a barrage of gunshots into her chest. Her distressed wail dies in her throat as she does. The other one is seeking out Dave still, who appeared to have been fighting back before you came back in. You shoot at them from across the room and they dodge behind a set of records. Some of them shatter as the bullet makes contact. 

_Motherfucker._ You take off towards them and slide down the aisle. Dave is crouched on the ground and the raider lands a shot over his head.  
The sound you make isn’t human. You unloaded your entire case into the other raider and aren’t coherent enough to reload your gun. The second sickle comes off your hip and you leap at the distracted raider, plowing it into his back. They howl and turn around to face you. You slice at their face and miss. They step backwards and shoot again, this bullet running itself into the very corner of your shoulder. 

Two more shots ring out from behind the raider and they collapse in front of you. 

_Dave._

He sits there, against the very edge of the wall, staring up at you with heaving breaths, gun in his hands. 

You stumble to him and he comes up to meet you, dropping his rifle. 

“Karkat- oh, fuck, what happened to you,” he takes your arm with the long scratch. Blood pours out of your shoulder. He’s shaking. 

Dave pulls you into an embrace, hands pressed flat against your back. He presses his forehead against yours. You close your eyes and breath in his existence, his soldiness. He’s safe. 

“Karkat, don’t leave me like that again. Pl-please. I couldn’t live with myself if you didn’t come back. _Oh god._ I’m so fucking sorry I couldn’t be there for you. It should have been me. You don’t deserve this. It should have been me.”

He keeps rambling but for some reason you’re laughing, just happy to see him alive. 

“I’m fine,” you laugh and press your forehead back against his, opening your eyes. 

“I’m never going to let this happen again- Oh, no, you’re high,” he observes. Your pupils must be huge. 

Your muscles are seizing, veins dilated as the drug continues to pulse through you. 

He pulls away, hands brushing your abdomen. You flinch as it brushes past the gunshot wound. 

“Fuck- fuck. I’m sorry. Oh god, lets get some stims in you. You’re going to feel like hell later.” 

You’re still kind of laughing as he pulls you to the floor and pulls three out. With careful hands he injects them into your shoulder, two spots on your arm, and then into your abdomen. You sigh as the skin knits itself back together, the bullets pushing out of your skin. 

He tosses the empty stimpaks aside and grabs your hand. On his knees in front of you he waits for your wounds to close before he pulls you into a crushing hold. He still doesn’t seem all that sure that you’re here. 

“Dave, I’m fine.” 

“When we get back we’re buying a top of the line radiation suit. Or a power suit. I don’t care how much it is. I’m never letting this happen again.” He just keeps talking into your shoulder that isn’t covered in blood as you both let your breathing calm down. 

The chem is thankfully fading away. 

He pulls away to look at you and holds your hand out in front of him, squeezing it. 

“Promise me you won’t go out alone again, Karkat. _Promise me._ I can’t-- I don’t want--” Dave stumbles over his words in a way you’re not use to seeing. He’s captivating. His other hand slides to the back of your neck, skin on skin. “I don’t want to go on in this stupid world without you, okay?” 

You feel compelled to say yes. To tell him you won’t do that again, leave him like that. You exhale. “I’m the one who’s immune to radiation, Dave. That’s the whole reason you hired me.”

He purses his lips, face turning hard. “And that’s just the thing. Is that all this still is to you? You, working for me?”

You gaze at him, not sure if your heart is pounding because of the drugs or because of something else entirely. “I-- I don’t know.” 

He leans closer. “I don’t want you to just work for me anymore, Karkat.” 

You can’t breathe. “Oh,” is all you say. 

And then you can’t speak anymore because Dave has mashed his lips to yours and is kissing you. Some part of your brain whispers _finally_. It explodes warmth in your chest like opening a door into the desert heat. 

You’re so acutely aware of all the points touching between you, where his hand is holding your neck to the other one that’s grasping yours. 

Then too soon he pulls away, dropping your hand and brushing your cheek with his thumb as he withdraws. 

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he murmurs. But you don’t give him time to regret his decision because you’re hauling him back to your face. He makes a small surprised noise and you place your hands around the back of his head so he can’t pull away from you again. Your thumb brushes the scruff on his cheek as you breathe him in with soft, open-mouthed kisses. You sit like that for awhile, Dave on his knees in front of you with your legs splayed out around him, wrapped up in each other like the run-down record store and the sandy landscape and the rabid beasts around you don’t matter. 

Finally, after what isn’t long enough with you against him, he pulls away and presses his forehead to yours once more, his breathing fast-paced and almost in time with yours. 

“I think… I think I’d like that. Might have to change my contract,” you finally manage, your voice dry and cracking. 

“I’ll have to check with the boss but I’m pretty sure that can be arranged,” he chuckles softly. 

Dave finally pulls away from you and you open your eyes to see the brightest smile from him you’ve ever seen. 

You return it with one just as large and uncontrollable, your heart as full as you can ever remember it being. 

Suddenly life on this godforsaken, radioactive planet doesn’t seem as unbearable. You’ve got Dave Strider with you and you’ll fight it, side by side, no matter what.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Strilondes Server Apocalypse Theme Sprint! Features the Lover's Embrace perk, and kudos if you caught the charisma check ;)


End file.
